The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-09-10
THE HOME AND GRAVE OF SUMNER
ELLIS.

Gunnison, in the Christian Leader, had
a double purpose. We wished to visit
our friend, and we desired also to visit
the home and grave of our esteemed
and lamented friend Sumner Ellis.
When in other vacation days we had to-
gether climbed the mountains and spent
the long summer days together, he had
been won't to speak with tenderest rem
iniscence of his boyhood and the scenes
Of his early life. And so the town Of
Orange was familiar to US, and we
knew something of it's wide extended
hills and had caught something of the
music of its pleasant brooks.
All of these Massachusetts country
roads are quantity beautiful, for they are
not largely used, and life is too hard in
its conditions for all the pleasant BRAN
bles to be cut beside the road. So by the
old mills and on the hillside by the red
house and by the graveyard on the hill
we come to the house at North Orange,
where he was married and to which he
used to come to cool his brain when hot
and weary with his work. What a
restful place it was, and how he must
have delighted in the broad extended
view from this village set upon hill.
Here he wrote portions of his books, and
many of his pleasant days were spent
here in this slightly house.
His birthplace is across the hill, near
ly mile downward. On the way we
pass the birthplace of one of our we'll
known clergymen, now deceased, the
Rev. J. E. Forester. Very many men,
cries were stirred as we passed by, for
he was our neighbor for several years,
and with others we admired his bril-
liant talents. He was genial and
pleasant neighbor, and we could but be
saddened, as we thought of his success,
his vigorous frame, his apparent pros
pect Of long life, and then thought of
his coming away from the throngs that
waited on his ministry, who were daz-
zled by his brilliancy, to die among the
scenes of his boyhood.
The house where Sumner Ellis was
horn is large farm house in the hollow
of the hills. The great slopes shut
down close beside it, and all around it,
save by the way through which the
winding road comes, there are hills.
There is meadow before it, and
through it brook winds in innumera-
BILE curves; but save for this there is
small outlook, and there is not much in
the home or its surroundings to attract
admiration. But it was his home and
he loved it. Here he was born; in this
brook he had built his mimic dams and
sailed his boats; here he had learned
the anglers art, and it was amid these
hills that he grew to boyhood. Hither
he returned to renew associations and
revive dearly cherished memories, and
to this valley here, with Mt. Tully
shadowing it, he desired at the last
that his dust should be brought for bu-
rial beside the dust of those who had
played with him in boyhood.
Downward, the valley half mile
away, widens. Before it, high above
upon its hill, is the little village of
North Orange, and here in the valley
close beside the road is Sumner Ellis's
grave. 1t is in the corner of the little
cemetery, and marble monument
marks the spot. Here the wife of his
earlier manhood is buried and close be-
side her rests all that is mortal of the
genial preacher, writer and friend. 1t
is not place of special beauty, but he
saw this valley with the vision that is
of the heart, and because it was home
and his kindred here had lived and
died, he desired burial here.
The little company that made its pill
grimage here, was only four in number,
but there was not one among us that
had not known and loved him, and it
was with a melancholy pleasure that
we could see where his body rested from
its labors. There were faded flowers
upon the grave, telling US that other
friends came hither to think of him
whom so many knew and loved.
At the other side of the little enclos-
ure is the grave of Rev. Levi Ballou,
who was the pastor at North Orange
for many years. His monument is ap-
propriately pulpit of marble with an
open Bible, open to one of the most in
spring of passages, telling of immor-
tality. And thus this little place of
graves contains the relics of two at least
of the faithful defenders of the faith.
Just as the shadows of the afternoon
began to lengthen, we left the grave
which we had come so far to see, and
climbed the long hill to the village, and
descending by the winding way, with
fair visions opening at every turn, we
come backward to the home, beneath
whose roof we had found pleasant
abiding.
In many of the parishes the churches
are too small to hold the people, who